


First Meeting

by LectorEl



Series: Another Fork in the Road [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mona is an adorable little sociopath, Multi, OT4, Tim is a shark, Tim is his mother's son, assassin trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LectorEl/pseuds/LectorEl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim Drake is a businessman. He inherited his parents' company after their deaths, kept his head down (more or less) and made sure the various sociopaths on his staff didn't get thrown in jail. <br/>The fact that he has professional assassins coming after him anyway is a bit inconvenient, but Tim can adapt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Who_First](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Who_First/gifts).



“Er, sir?” Mona said awkwardly, twisting one of her thin braids between her fingers and flashing one of her apologetic, please-don’t-shoot-the-messenger smiles. Tim closed his eyes and focused on keeping his breath steady and controlled. After a count of five, he opened his eyes.

“What is it, Mona?” Mona was one of his best employees, which was why she always got bullied into giving him bad news. The whole company knew he couldn’t yell at Mona.

“Security caught somebody on the roof. With a bunch of guns.” Her apologetic smile got wider. “They’ve got her locked in one of the conference rooms, handcuffed to an office chair, and they want to know if we have to call the police.”

Only in Gotham would the question be phrased like that. Tim sighed and got up from his desk. “No, I think we’ll handle this in-house. Wipe the surveillance footage of any proof she was here, please.”

“Yes sir,” Mona agreed, falling into step beside Tim. “Are we going to kill her?”

“…Maybe.” Tim had been a good person once, he was sure of that. Maybe not the best, but he was positive that before he inherited his parent’s company he hadn’t considered murder an acceptable problem solving method.

“I’ll tell maintenance that we might have a disposal situation coming up then,” Mona said, clearly pleased to have something concrete to focus on. She flashed a quick grin before darting away.

Mona Fox was the last person his mother had hired before she died, and it showed. Tim didn’t know _how_ his mother had managed to find what was possibly the only morally flexible member of that family, and he perfectly happy remaining ignorant.

Pushing open the conference room door, he was greeted by-

“-let me go you fucking assholes! I’m going to shoot your fucking eyes out, you hear me? Your motherfucking eyes!”

“Yes, I think the whole building hears you. Hush for a moment,” Tim commanded absently, staring at his new prisoner. She looked…absolutely nothing like the previous would-be industrial saboteurs. How interesting. Tim reached out and plucked off the earpiece she was wearing, ignoring her renewed thrashing, and slid it on.

“I’d rather not kill your agent, all things considered,” Tim said calmly, leaning back against the heavy oak table. “I’m sure we can come to some mutually satisfactory agreement if you’re willing to be reasonable.”

The silence on the other end of the line had a distinctly stunned quality to it. Tim grinned. “Well? Tick-tock, people. I’ve got a company to run, and I’m going to need to use this room sooner or later.”

“Jesus _fuck_ , they weren’t kidding when they said you were a sociopath,” A stunned male voice said. Tim muffled a snicker.

“That was my mother, actually. I’m just efficient.”

“An efficient sociopath, maybe,” the voice muttered before cutting off abruptly.

“What are your terms?” Another man asked, voice deeper and more controlled.

“Who your lady was here to kill, to start, and who you’re working for.” Tim’s smile was a wicked thing. “We can negotiate from there.”

“…ah,” the first voice said, stumbling over the sound.

Tim shook his head. “So, me then?”

“…along with a few other head executives,” the second man admitted.

“Because….?”

“Our master thinks you’re a force of corruption.”

“Bullshit,” Tim said instantly. “I’m not half as bad as Luthor. Or Wayne, and I don’t see you going after those two.”

There’s a cough. “Luthor I get, but I thought Gothamites liked Wayne?” the first voice asked. There’s a distinct air of confusion flavoring it, and Tim felt a stab of savage triumph.

Outwardly, he shrugged. “We do, but still- funding his personal self-therapy slash second job of vigilantism with company funds is much murkier ethical territory than anything my people or I are doing.”

Silence. Dead silence. The kind that only a severed connection could cause. Tim shrugs, and pockets the ear piece. He turns to his captive. “It looks like you’re going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future. You can cooperate, or I’ll just have Mona shoot you.”

Unexpectedly, she laughed. A little hysterical, but honestly amused. “I think Master sent me to kill you ‘cause he’s afraid of the bloody competition,” she said, voice trailing up the scale.

“That’s not an answer, you realize,” Tim pointed out mildly, a slight smile making its way onto his face. She’s- cute, he decided. Positively adorable, really. And _that_ was proof his standards were impossibly warped, but that was inevitable for someone from Gotham.

“ _Jesus christ_ ,” she swore, a few hysteric giggles slipping out. “I’ll behave, I’m not fucking suicidal.”

Tim nodded in satisfaction. “Pleasure doing business.” The handcuffs were opened by the same master key as most of the security forces, and Tim kept a copy on hand. He set her free, trusting his security guards to take her down if he’d misjudged how cooperative she was feeling.

“Tim Drake, CEO,” he said, offering her his hand. Her eyebrows shot up, but she took it.

“Pru. Assassin. And goddamn hostage, now,” she added, voice disgusted. Tim patted her shoulder.

“I’m sure you won’t be the only one, by the time I’m done.” If only for the challenge. It’d been a while since he’d had so much fun playing with people. And Tim had inherited his mother’s sadism. Just slightly.

“That’s not a reassuring look, yanno,” Pru said, eying him uneasily.

“Don’t worry, I can play nice,” Tim promised cheerfully. He grinned a little wider, shark-toothed.

Oh, this was going to be so much _fun._


End file.
